


The Warriors of Primus

by Blitzindite



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Where Loyalties Lie (AU)
Genre: AU TF World, Circuit-Boosters, Gen, Guardian Angels, Guardians - Freeform, Legends, TFWLL, The Warriors of Primus, drunk, high-grade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blitzindite/pseuds/Blitzindite
Summary: Pressed by a young scout for another story, Kup decides to spin the tale of the Legend of the Warriors of Primus.





	

The base is filled with the soft sounds of chatter and weapons being cleaned. Of old mechs telling younger ones stories of battle, or telling them what they should and should not do on the field of battle. One mech in particular can be heard above all the rest. His war-torn voice has the attention of young and old alike; of grounders, fliers, and beasts. Some look to be daydreaming; perhaps imagining the tales that the old soldier spins. The younger ones lean forward with wide optics; clearly filled with questions but too engrossed in what the old mech says to attempt interrupting him.

 

He spins tales of ambushes he narrowly escaped from; of successful missions of sabotage; of friends old and new. Some in that very room, and others one with the AllSpark.

 

The old mech goes quiet for some time.

 

“Tell another one, Kup!” a brave young scout finally pipes in.

 

“Come on, Teacup. Th’ kids wah’nna hear s’more.”

 

The old mech chuckles and rubs his chin. “Any’a ya heard the Legend’a Primus’ Warriors?”

 

The red vet who had called him Teacup quirks an optic-ridge. “Th’ Wah’rriors’a Primus? Tha’s a spah’rklin’ chah’rge-time story!”

 

“Aww, come on, Kup!” The scout looks interested. “I haven’t heard it!”

 

An orange-armored mech—this one the same age as Kup and the red mech—elbows the storyteller with his replacement arm and a grin of sharp fangs. His remaining green optic has a bright glow to it. His Cybertronian is not the best, however; like he had long ago forgotten proper grammar in the language or even Cybertronian itself and was only just relearning it. “Tell child schtory, Cuppo. ‘E vant ‘ear? Letting ‘im ‘ear.”

 

“All right, all right!” The old mech leans back in his seat with a chuckle. “Ya wanna hear the Legend, eh? Then I’ll tell ya.”

 

* * *

 

Before there were Factions, before the First War, Cybertron was at peace. Cities had carefully chosen law-enforcement divisions to ensure that this peace remained. The Old Council was made up partially of civilian mechs; this ensured that bias was kept out of the courts. The castes had only just begun forming.

 

At this time, Primus’ twenty-three Warriors had not even been Warriors. Most of them could not even shoot a weapon or thrust a blade correctly.

 

There was not really much they had in common with each other. Some of them knew each other as close friends. Some had never met. And still some could not stand each other.

 

Nitrous was an illegal street racer. He was young, and only the second generation of transformation-compatible mechs on Cybertron.

 

Boost was a Minicon and the assistant of one of Cybertron’s best scientific processors.

 

Backstep was a massive mech and an Enforcer for Kalis.

 

Halogen was young and Backstep’s first son—also a second-generation Transformer, first generation flier. He had recently begun his own training as an Enforcer.

 

The list went on. From teachers, to medics, to circuit-booster dealers. Aside from the occasional friendships, and the relation between Backstep and Halogen as well as the brothers Runner and Kickup, the twenty-three mechs seemed to have nothing in common with each other.

 

When the First War started, it seemed that everyone was forced onto one side or the other in a war over, of all things, _religion_. The mechs took both sides in the war with no clear pattern; all of them forced to become Warriors, Scouts, Field Medics, and even more dangerous jobs such as Spies and Saboteurs.

 

The First Battle of Destron was the first battle that all twenty-three of the mechs fought in. It was the bloodiest battle of the entire war. It was also the battle that all twenty-three of those mechs lost their lives.

 

Primus felt to blame for the First War. It was all started over religion, after all. So He chose twenty-three mechs who had left behind the most with their deaths. Mechs who had mates, or sparklings, or a twin; mechs whose loved ones would have trouble supporting themselves after the Warriors’ sparks went offline.

 

So Primus plucked twenty-three sparks from the AllSpark; twenty-three mechs who had fought, and lost their lives, in the First Battle of Destron. He asked them who they cared for most, and then sent them back to Cybertron’s surface.

 

No one could see them, and their loved ones could no longer feel the presence of the Warriors’ sparks. But the mechs—Primus had called them His Guardians—found they could still protect the one or two they cared for most. They found they could grab a bullet out of the air, that they could pick up a car before it could crash into their loved one and set it on its side or hood so no one was hurt, or grab the wrist of their loved one before they went down a dangerous alley or stepped into oncoming traffic.

 

The oddities began to gain notice by Cybertron’s populace. Mechs were being pulled out of the streets, attempted murderers were being pinned against walls until Enforcers arrived. There was never anything to even clue to what was going on.

 

There was no clue until the cycle that a mech by the designation of Highstep got himself drunk. His twin brother had been offlined in the First War, and Highstep had begun drinking to numb the pain of missing what felt like the other half of his spark. That was the cycle he decided to try circuit-boosters. Already in a drunk stupor, Highstep stumbled into an alley where he had seen glimpses of dealers and their customers.

 

He was able to pay for his first dose before he dropped the injector. It shattered to the ground. He only figured it was shaky circuits that made him drop it. It never occurred to him that it was Volley trying to stop him from offlining himself with his mistake. He paid for the second dose.

 

His vision had become blurry. He was seeing things. He heard the dealers running; their pedesteps were deafeningly loud as the sound pounded in his audios. Highstep swore he must have been seeing things. He thought he saw Volley looking down on him, cradling him under the helm. The sirens far out in the distance had made his audios hurt. Who called Enforcers, he wondered.

 

Highstep awoke in a Polyhexian hospital. His vision was still swimming, and his processor had ached. Someone had grabbed his arm in a reassuring way. He had looked to his left and locked optics with none other than Volley. His twin’s frame was transparent, barely visible; he had to strain his already irritated optics to make out his brother’s faceplate. Only Volley’s optics were bright and clearly visible.

 

As soon as he had been there, Volley was gone.

 

As time continued, others started claiming to see optics, feel someone grabbing them and pulling them backward or to the side—even when there was no one there. Highstep had stopped drinking. He never even glimpsed Volley again—but he swore, only to those who had seen similar, that he could feel his twin’s optics boring into him.

 

The stories began to spread through Polyhex and Iacon, through Vos and Kaon, Crystal City and Destron. Mechs were claiming that they were seeing offline loved ones who had perished in the First War; that they could feel their touch, hear their vents.

 

As the stories continued to spread, they found their way to the Priests and Priestesses of Primus’ Citadels scattered around Cybertron. They claimed it could only be the work of Primus Himself.

 

Cybertronians, young and old, began to call these strange saviors the Warriors of Primus.

 

No one is truly certain whether they still walk the planet, or if they escorted their loved ones to the Well of AllSparks and were finally allowed the rest they so deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> Legend time, dears~ 
> 
> This is a legend that will get mentioned by Kup/Ironhide/Strika older AutoBots and DeceptiCons alike when a certain...*ahem* invisible mech starts making ,appearances' in Transformers: Where Loyalties Lie. 
> 
> *Note* Destron will be a Cybertronian city mentioned multiple times in the comic. It is where a lot of the worst battles in the planet's history were held, so it will have a lot of myths and legends surrounding it. It is named after the Headmasters term for DeceptiCons.  
> Teacup was a name Kup's two best friends [the other two oldies] gave him when they were all younglings.  
> The orange mech speaks a language called Choll (SHOY) and most of of his language data-banks for Cybertronian are corrupt, so he is forced to relearn it.  
> The Warriors of Primus are, virtually, Guardian Angels.


End file.
